Page 27

He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. "You were the prettiest girl in that school. You were smart and talented.Everybodyhad a crush on you."

"Bullshit." I was awkward and weird, never the popular kid. The boys used to torture me, and sure, my grandma always liked to tell me that they pulled my pigtails because they liked me, but that was sexist bullshit then, and it's sexist bullshit now.

Even Jax, Cayden's best friend, thought I was a dork.

Cayden shakes his head, meeting my lips once more. "You have no idea, do you?"

"You remember middle school very, very differently from how I do."

"Don't make me dig up my yearbook."

I let out a squeal that's part laughter and part indignation. "Don't you dare."

"I will. Don't test me."

"No," I groan, but the protest is cut off with another clever, delicious twist of his hips.

Our mouths meet again, slower and wetter. He licks past my teeth and I open to him. I run one hand through the soft strands of his ashy blond hair, then scratch my nails over the scruff of his beard.

When he pulls back, I cup his face in my hands, rubbing my fingers over his cheekbones and staring into clear, blue eyes.

"We wasted so much time."

He shakes his head, twisting to press a kiss to my palm. "Wasn't a waste. But I'm real damn glad we're here now."

I search his gaze, wanting to protest, but can I? Really? "I guess…"

One corner of his mouth tilts up. "Besides. Couldn't have donethisback when we were twelve."

He grinds against me, dirty and slow. Heat and pleasure bloom along my spine, pulling a moan from me.

"Good point."

Maybe the years we spent apart were worth it. Because there is seriously nothing else I would rather be doing right now than this.

We kiss again, wilder, deeper. Our bodies are flush, our lips and hips connected. He moves against me, and I'm pinned between his body and the door. I slide my hands over the roughness of his beard to his broad shoulders and firm chest. All that gorgeous muscle feels like heaven, and a part of me could stay here, just like, this forever.

The other part needs more.

Impatient, I start to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. They give beneath my fingers, revealing smooth skin and another freaking shirt—and I get that it's cold, but how many layers do I have to get through to put my hands on that chiseled body?

He rumbles a low laugh into my mouth, then grabs me by the ass again. "Hold on tight, baby."

Happily.

But even with that warning, I'm thrown when he peels my body off the door. I scramble to throw my arms around his neck, clinging as he walks us across the room.

I only get vague impressions of the space flying by me as we move. This is definitely his childhood bedroom, but it's also undergone some serious renovations. The handful of movie andcountry rock star posters that graced his walls back in middle school are gone, replaced by what looks like local artisan work. A couple of paintings and a driftwood piece. There are photos I can't quite make out, though I'm pretty sure a few contain hard-bodied men in desert fatigues. A flag is folded neatly and displayed in a case, and it hits me all at once.

Those years between the children we were and the adults we are now really weren't wasted. We spent them. Him defending his country and me learning and teaching and trying to make art.

We clicked immediately upon reuniting. But I can't wait to go deeper. To find out who he really is now, what he's seen and where he's been and what he's done to become the rough-hewn man currently kissing me breathless.

Clearly, we're going to start that process of discovery by learning about each other's bodies, though. And I can't say I regret thatat all.

We arrive at the edge of a big bed that definitely wasn't part of this room back when he was thirteen. The crimson bedspread welcomes me as he sets me down. I sink into the mattress's embrace. He kneels up between my legs, and together we scoot backward until we both at least sort of fit on the bed. I can't be bothered to worry about what parts of us might be dangling off the edge when he devours my mouth again.

He weight presses into me deliciously, and it only gets better when he skims a hand beneath my shirt. That contact of flesh on flesh sends waves of goosebumps rippling over me, heat pooling in my center. I drag him closer, grinding up into him, and sparks blur my vision.